Today is the Feast of All Saints. Today we celebrate not just one Saint or another, not just Hildegard or Francis. We celebrate ALL of them. In the Episcopal Church, the question of saints comes up often. Many Episcopalians didn’t grow up Episcopalian, many of us started life as Roman Catholics. For the former Roman Catholics, it’s important that we have a tradition that honors saints.
Others of us grew up more Protestant, even Evangelical. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve answered the question: “do Episcopalians pray to saints?” The answer is well, not exactly. It’s better said that we pray with the saints. Every time we gather in the church, especially when we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, we believe we aren’t alone. We are united with all of those who have gone before us in the faith. We’re not alone when we stand before God. Fellowship is built in to our faith. That’s why I love the ofrenda, because once a year we make visible what we believe all the time. The saints are always with us around this table. I’m not sure that makes the protestants feel that much better.
Two Episcopalian Approaches to Saints
There are two Episcopalian approaches to sainthood I want to share with you today. One comes from a hymn, another from a writer. Like many Episcopalian theological positions, our theology about Saints may be best summed up with a hymn; “I sing a song of the saints of God.” The hymn was originally written for kids. I know Episcopalians who don’t think we’ve celebrated the day if we haven’t sung this hymn. Did you know there are several alternative versions of the lyrics? I’ve told you this before, but my favorite alternative goes like this: “And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was both, if you know what I mean.” But if you continue, you get to the best theology in the hymn. “The saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.”
Another Episcopalian definition of sainthood comes from the author Madeleine L’Engle. Madeleine used to unofficially canonize her own saints. Madeleine talked about St. Johann Sebastian Bach and St. Einstein. She talked about the lives she looked to who helped point her to the divine. One of my favorite artists, Kelly Latimore, is going to be with us in a couple of weeks for a workshop on icons. Kelly has taken the broad idea of sainthood and run with it. He’s painted saint icons for Mr. Rogers, Dorothy Day, even Marsha P. Johnson, the trans activist who was an early advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, they’re all painted as saints in Kelly’s icons. God’s love, gods light, can be seen through them.
We have a capacity as human beings, to hold up certain examples. We learn to be better human beings by emulation. We learn kindness and gentleness, patience and prayer, when we see these virtues modeled by those we admire. We learn to be generous when we see our parents or grandparents faithfully giving away their time and their money. We learn prayer when our families pray together over meals or before bed. We learn strength when we walk with a friend who is facing cancer and who will still take time to make us laugh. We learn virtues by looking up to others.
These capital “S” Saints which we honor in the church calendar, and the small “s” saints we honor personally or locally, they help point us in the direction of the heavenly banquet.
Jesus Weeps over Lazarus
Today’s Gospel is an interesting choice for All Saints Day. Lazarus is an interesting saint to choose for All Saints. This Gospel has within it the shortest verse in Scripture. Our translation has it “Jesus began to weep.” But the Greek is even simpler. Just two words: Jesus wept.
We can’t escape this day a sense of loss. We remember the souls that have gone before us, and we miss them, we grieve. I’ve never really liked the separation between All Saints and All Souls. For me these two days are really one celebration, a time to remember, our ancestors in faith, our friends and family who have died. This is a time of the year where we pray that the very veil between life and death grows thin, that the love we hold for those who have died can reach beyond time and space and touch those we hold dear.
I find comfort in Jesus’ tears over the death of his friend Lazarus. Jesus’ tears would almost be enough, but then Jesus says “Lazarus, come out.” He says to his friends “unbind him and let him go.” There is, in this story of Lazarus’ resuscitation, foreshadowing of the resurrection to come. This story of Lazarus points to the greater story, the resurrection itself, life conquering death. In these two paragraphs there is sorrow, yes. But these short verses about death also hold triumph, a reminder that for Christians, death is not the end of the story. We are caught up in the mystery of resurrection. We believe that death will not have the last word. Lazarus comes out.
It takes Courage to Believe
It takes courage to believe in the resurrection. It takes courage to believe that love is stronger than hate. I wish that the creed began with the words “with courage.” I wish every time we started the creed we said, “With courage, we believe.” Because it takes courage to believe. In the lives of the saints, often, we see the courage this resurrection belief can engender.
There is power in believing in a life that is stronger than death, there is strength that comes from believing love that is stronger than hate. Believing God will not leave us weeping. Joy comes in the morning. It gives us the capacity to make change in our lives and in the world.
That belief is important today. A few weeks ago, I stood in this pulpit and recognized that there is stress in this congregation over the coming election. I know many of us are worried about Tuesday, and the days afterward. The news lately has made it seem like Tuesday could define who we are as a people, could define who we are as a nation, could define so much. I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard, “the stakes couldn’t be higher.” Yes, Tuesday matters. If you haven’t voted yet, go vote. If your friends in swing states haven’t voted, do what you can to get those souls to the polls.
The stakes are high, and the saints also have a way of reminding us that our moment is just that, our moment. There have been moments like this before. There have been moments when hate has held sway over a large portion of the population. There have been times when violence and threats of violence were all around. The saints helped us survive. The saints helped chart the way through. Remembering the saints can help put our days in perspective. They help us remember that even if the election goes the way we hope, we will have work to do.
Show Up in All Your Glory
A reminder of that perspective came for me from a surprising place, the HBO reality show “We’re Here.” The show follows three drag performers as they travel across America to put on drag shows in rural communities. My favorite performer on the show is called, I kid you not, Bob the Drag Queen.
A tall black gay man who dresses in drag professionally, Bob brings so much joy and hope to the people with whom he works. In the episode in question, Bob finds himself in Selma, Alabama with a group of educators and activists. Some of these leaders stood on the Edmund Pettus Bridge on Bloody Sunday with John Lewis. The women talk about facing down racism with Dr. King. They talk about the movement that came before, and they talk about the important struggles going on today in Alabama and across the country for civil rights, human dignity.
As they talk, Bob breaks down in tears. He names his “survivors remorse.” Bob says, “I know I can sit here on this couch because my grandmother’s grandmother was enslaved. And she survived. I don’t know how to deal with that.” One of the women stops him, “you are who you are because of them. I need you to take that strength.” Another of the leaders tells him, and I quote. “You are the product of some strong-ass people.” Finally one last woman’s voice rings out, “there’s something about when you know who you are and you decide show up in all of your glory, and your grace, and your greatness. It changes people.”
And I thought, “that’s All Saints Day.”
There’s something about when you know who you are and you decide show up in all of your glory, and your grace, and your greatness. It changes people.
You are the product of some strong people. Some of them are in stained glass, sure. Many more haven’t been counted in a calendar. Many had their stories silenced or erased. If I went around the room and asked, who are your examples of faith? Who taught you about Jesus and God? Who invited you to go to church? I guarantee the overwhelming response would talk about mothers, and grandmothers, and Sunday school teachers. We ought to take down all the walls of honor in the Episcopal Church those walls with the pictures of bishops and rectors and put up pictures of Sunday school teachers instead. Go ahead, canonize your own saints. Tell their stories.
And this week, whatever happens, whatever happens, know who you are, a child of God, a person of infinite worth. Decide to show up in all your glory, in all your grace, with all of your hope. It will change you. It will change others. It might just change the world.
Whatever happens this week, we will be here St Michael’s, as our ancestors were before us. We will be doing the work, God’s work, which is always unbinding folks, always setting people free. Always about life conquering death.
Whatever happens, we’ll work together to set people free, free from hunger, free from hopelessness, free from the old prejudices we were told were a part of this faith. We’ll be unbinding those old grave clothes.
This is a church where the saints that went before taught us to love unbound, to dance, to celebrate, and to work, always, always for freedom, for the deep truth that we are all, all of us, saints of God. Whatever happens on Tuesday, know that you are a saint of God, like the strong women and men and people who have gone before us. And know, God has work for us to do, saints. It simply is our moment. God help us to be saints too.
Amen.
Mike Angell 